Retharis
Background Before The Sundering Retharis was born decades before the War of the Ancients in a large town where the Empress' presence lacked. His parents – Onira and Liorden – were known by the locals to be perhaps the greatest magi in the vicinity, yet their skills weren't great enough for anyone of bigger importance to take notice. This was perhaps their greatest plight, which even prompted them to seclude themselves and take care of their newborn child. His upbringing was rather peculiar. He was always taught he should stay true to his “purpose” and “real potential”; he was always encouraged to give his best in training and was often overwhelmed by his parents' requirements. While Retharis had never said anything, his apathy – that strongly suggested deep sadness – has always been questionable and triggered curiosity among the locals. Time passed and the planning of the Legion's summoning had begun. It was crucial that the Highborne convinced as many people as possible to stand up for what they thought to be a brighter future. And that's how Katriel, a Highborne mage, found Retharis' province. Katriel was just an officer who came from a city not very far from their province. He came there to recruit able-bodied swordsmen and archers, but he also found a handful of mages, Retharis and his parents included. The folksmen didn't seem very eager of joining them and Katriel thought that taking them by force might encourage future uprisings due to “mistreatment.” He had heard about The Poor's Gold and reported what he's found and what he intends to do. His peers had supported him and such a festival took place for the first time just a few months before the Burning Legion would be summoned. Ironically, the Night elven peers started to trust the Highborne more and accepted to help them. Out of all mages in the province though, only three were picked to come at Zin'Aszhari: Retharis, Ashiela, and Nathvel. The Highborne at Zin'Azshari soon noticed that they're relatively equal in their skills, but most of them appreciated Ashiela more because she was the easiest to yield. Nathvel was too arrogant at times and Retharis was too passive. They were all kept as apprentices, nonetheless. When the Kaldorei Resistance finally showed up to sabotage the Highborne's plans, the master of the aforementioned mages – Malayern – fed the children with many lies about their own kin as to maintain their servitude. For their sake, after all, as they'd get killed if they'd refuse. Or so they thought. Nathvel and Rethars had no objections, yet Ashiela felt terribly bad after killing a Moon Guard mage and she eventually deflected to the resistance. Whereabouts are unknown. Nathvel ended up killed by demons due to his arrogance and suddenly, Retharis was the only remaining apprentice to Malayern. Before the Sundering destroyed everything, Retharis had been asked by Malayern if he still wanted to fight for him as to bring the Legion. He lost his temper due to losing two apprentices consecutively and seemed prepared to end Retharis' life as well, as Retharis seemed doubtful and his master couldn't stand it. Ironically, Retharis confidently confirmed that he still wanted a better future, certainly taking his master by surprise. After The Sundering As soon as I had gained my conscience, my eyes began searching for Malayern. His figure had been the last thing I saw, and back then I had needed to see his face to make sure I was still alive. Surely the torn, rocky, and dark land around me didn’t sound or look like death – but it smelled like it. While I was probing my surroundings, I noticed something very strange. It was the first time I witnessed such thing; there were no clouds, but there were colourful rays encircling the sky everywhere I looked. But it was no normal sky. Back home – which is where I believed we were not – I’d always felt like the stars and Gods could look at us through the opaque, blue sky, but we couldn’t glance back. I thought they set a barrier between us – I had thought it was because they didn’t want to see our failures. Still, right then and right there, I had realised there were no Gods. No Elune. All that lied behind the clouds was the endless. The endless darkness. The lonely thought had leeched the energy out of me. “Your reaction to your transformation is impeccable,” a grim voice had exclaimed from behind me. I had turned around and met the eyes of a Dreadlord. His grin had prompted me to take a step back; I wasn’t paying attention to his words, but he continued, “Do you like your new features?” And his second attempt was successful, however, as I took a moment to inspect myself. My skin was paler than before, my muscles were pressing outwards as if I’d been fighting millennia – but I had thick, blue fur covering most of my body; I was so gloomy, as if I’d absorbed the entirety of darkness in the Dark Beyond. My fingers were no longer tender, but what froze me were the wry bristles that erupted from my finger tips – they were real claws, and the realisation left me winded, although I was panting. “Calm yourself, and rejoice on the gifts the Legion has bothered to give you,” he had finally said to me. Clearly, my reaction mollified him. My anger had unhinged my control and I had whipped my hand forward, sending from the the depth of my verve a bolt of darkness, piercing through the air between us, trailing until it would splash against him. I had felt both satisfaction and fear at the same time – satisfaction because I would no longer have to hear his unwelcome remarks, and fear because I was very expectant of something horrible to happen to me. I had betrayed both my people and the Legion. My body was tense and I was going mad. “A lot better than your former mortal powers.” I whipped around, probing my surroundings nervously before I heard wings flapping lazily above. I had looked up and found he was airborne. “If I weren’t swift, you would’ve surely damaged me,” he says, slowly landing. And then it struck me. He was right. I’m... strong... stronger. I think I had drifted in thought yet again, as the next sequence in my mind was his hand rousing me with its cold touch. He was closer now, and I was surprised at how I had missed the part where he approached me. I didn’t have time to ask such silly questions, for he went on to explain what had happened to Azeroth. The Well of Eternity imploded. My people scattered. Azeroth was at its weakest and the loyal Highborne became what I had become. A Satyr. “But we still haven’t seized Azeroth,” he says, as if concluding the story. “We need to prepare for another invasion. Malayern has gladly chosen to join.” The thought of Malayern made me thaw. I opened my mouth to speak, but he answered before I could ask. “He is alive. But I don’t know if he wants to deal with you anymore.” I widened my eyes. “Why not?” “You are weak.” His words had delivered a punch in my stomach, but the continuation lulled me. “Which is why he refused and why we had thought about a way to help you improve.” I suppose I had leaned forwards with interest, because he shot me a grin and revealed his plan. “We intended to send you to Amreggar.” I had asked about details of Amreggar and found that we were on Xoroth – a very important point of the Burning Legion – and that Amreggar was facing a problem of sorts, which according to him were good circumstances where I would develop. I had agreed. And I thank my past self for that. For having the courage to start this journey. I was afraid, I will not lie. I was afraid when I came to Amreggar and I had pondered my decision multiple times before I tasted the respect these filthy shrimps had to offer. The way they looked at me as I mercilessly cracked the souls of their enemies. As I learnt to use powers they were probably more familiar with. I was afraid before I tasted power. Before I’ve met Sathen and, most importantly, my master Sarux. Before I’ve bathed in the blood of mortal and immortal idiots alike. Before I’ve found the pleasure in all of these and, most importantly, before I realised my purpose. It took me a long while to realise what I was made for. It took many kills, many betrayals, many years, many encounters – for me to finally realise that I was made to wreak havoc. My purpose is to destroy and recreate. My purpose is to help the Legion. I’m glad my initial self has known that before all of this has taken place. My wisdom will help me bring me the power the fools cannot tap into. Other Information * Retharis hasn't ever brought up his parents since he's become a Satyr. * He named his staff Rethragus. Category:Satyr Category:Back story Category:The Burning Legion Category:Warlock Category:Demon Category:Highborne